I stopped in at the nursing home on my way from work and found my mother standing at the window and dancing to a CD of Mamma Mia; my father was asleep in the chair. My mother talked to him as if he was there: "Wow Robert do you hear that syncopation?" and "Isn't this music great?" I sat on the couch and slumped in my coat. The scene was familiar. My mother spent most of her day in the nursing home, trying to get my father to notice something.
He opened his eyes. "Sing with me!" my mother yelled, waving her hand as if hailing a bus. My father stared at her thru watery eyes for a long time, as if unsure of what he was seeing. She pointed at me. "Lisa is here," she said, still dancing. "Look Robert. Lisa is visiting. Isn't that nice. Look. See? There's Lisa." and on and on and on. Eventually, his eyes roamed to my part of the room. "See!" My mother was gleeful. "See, Lisa? He recognizes you!"